


Pronoun Game

by Laska



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/F, Fluffy Ending, Jealousy, Shaw is rescued from Samaritan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laska/pseuds/Laska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shaw is being held at a Samaritan Facility. She gets friendly with her cell mate.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw is being held at a Samaritan Facility. She gets friendly with her cell mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:  
> **  
>  There is drug use in this fic but things sort themselves in the end.

Three months into her capture, Samaritan puts Shaw on ice. Moves her into cold storage until they can come up with something that'll make her break or they can use her as a bargaining chip. Just another chess piece in their war. Or whatever, thinks Shaw. Although, their recent lack of interest in her should be concerning- she doesn't allow her self to go there. 

It's solitary - a damp, cold, 8 x 10 cell with a concrete slab to sleep on, minimalist toilet and sink. The oppressive fluorescent lights they never shut off flicker and buzz. She had seen worse in combat, but after everything that had happened, this wasn't exactly the Ritz. Early on Shaw knew she'd have to anchor her psyche to - something solid and true that could never be questioned or taken from her. Bear. The undying, soul affirming love of an animal is something that Shaw would never doubt and she wisely chose it to steel her. Whether Bear was alive or dead, the love still existed and that's what Shaw held close to her chest. Night after night.

Thoughts of Root confuse her - agitate her. Keep her up at night. Oftentimes they were exciting - catching a glimpse of the familiar bounce of her hair, allowing her eyes to rove over her exquisite profile -- feeling the low thrum of arousal grow in her belly. And then without warning thoughts suddenly turn terrifying - Root falling, needing help, needing _Shaw's_ help, and every time it turns out the same.

When Shaw was first captured, she tried to conjure as much anger and hatred for Root as she could muster. Root was something that could be taken away from her. Root needed to stay as far away from Shaw's mind as possible. Root was a liability. Shaw trained herself to say her name steadily, mouthing it over and over again, softly to herself in the dark, thinking that it might be enough to lose its meaning - desensitize herself so it wouldn't show a spike on a polygraph when someone else mentioned her name. It was worth trying.

There's another woman in the cell next to Shaw - she can hear her through the rough grate that sits in the wall between them. Shaw thinks she sounds German, but later realizes she's Russian. Shaw doesn't know her name. She calls her Zsa Zsa in her head because of her accent. Zsa Zsa calls Shaw Grumpy Monkey where she can hear her, because she is one.

And so she begins - day after day, telling Shaw stories of her childhood and of the war. She's an intellectual and talks about mythology, science, psychology -- astronomy. Music. Describes the way gospel music makes her feel. She tells her about sweet bread with raisins. Shaw grunts now and then, if not for any other reason than to keep her talking. She's not particularly interested, but she knows it's important not to lose her only friendly human connection. She does like hearing about the bread, though.

At first it's just something to fill the space and pass the time, but five months in, it becomes the only thing anchoring Shaw to reality. The woman's voice, something tangible that Shaw can hold onto. Something that saves her from making a noose with that leather shoelace she is not supposed to have.

And somehow, five months as fellow captives has brought Shaw and this woman who she's only ever caught a glimpse of, to this point. A juncture where she is able to successfully call Shaw out on her destructive thought patterns without having ever laying eyes on her.

"Grumpy, where you go?"

"Still here." Shaw mutters, toying with the jagged piece of steel she found in the showers.

"Come back to now." She says gently.

If it wasn't for Zsa Zsa, Shaw would have ended it - she knows this. Samaritan was no longer trying to get info out of her which probably meant - she didn't want to finish the thought. Chances were slim that any of them were still alive, let alone still looking for Shaw.

Shaw has always known in the very back of her head that she was not a classic sociopath - there have always been some doubts for Shaw. So much so, that she often feels the need to argue the case to anyone she tells because no one usually believes her. (Even when she's holding a knife to their throat. Hm, weird). So, Shaw's attachment to Zsa Zsa forces her to address her long held suspicions that maybe she's not as bad as she thought she was. Strangely, the thought does not comfort her.

Ok well yeah, sociopaths don't usually fight for good, or put others' safety and well being before their own (wait, they never do that), or love big dogs called Bear, or dream about kissing tall brunettes in elevators right before they risk their life to save the whole world. Ok, well Shaw didn't know about this last one, but it wasn't any kind of thought she was used to having on a daily basis, so she included it.

Just because her feelings were muted didn't mean she didn't have them. That's what her Mom had always told her, but the thought hit her now like a ton of bricks. Such an elementary thought. It took all this time for Shaw to realize this. _Loser_. She laughed at herself.  But what about the violence? She killed people without a second thought. But if she gave it a second thought, she killed bad people. She protected good people. That's why she did it. The whole thing. That's why she was here in this position. Because she wasn't a sociopath. Holy shit.

Shaw had fed Zsa Zsa little bits of info here and there, and no one had come and dragged her anywhere; she was pretty sure no one was interested in what the two woman talked about. Shaw had somehow managed to short out half of the fluorescent lights so it wasn't so oppressively bright and they fell into sort of a routine.

_________________________

Shaw is able to push her thumb through the rusted metal of the grate that separates her cell from Zsa Zsa's. She should probably learn this woman's real name though, they were about to meet face to face. Shaw tore a corner of the grate away and was met with a pair of the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen. It was a moving experience for both of them, as they each hooked a finger through to make contact- both took deep, reverent breaths at the connection. 

Her name is Sasha and she's about 60. Striking features and long, pretty hair that looks like it was once blond. Shaw can only see a small portion of her face at a time, but it's like night and day for her. Shaw feels anchored finally. She needs this woman. They need each other. Shaw cannot simply roll over and die. She now has a responsibility. Sasha. 

For the next two months, Shaw and Sasha get to know each other on a very intimate level.  
She is kind to Shaw. Without wanting anything more than someone else to witness her existence. Shaw does the same for her, and to Shaw, that's being a hero. _Sasha needs me. I can stay alive for Sasha_. She has a son. Maybe Shaw can make it out to help or tell him something. Sasha has a granddaughter. Shaw and Root might find her. All kinds of scenarios fly through Shaw's head and in all of them, she's helping someone else  

Sasha asks if there was ever someone special for Shaw, and just like Shaw's own mother, this woman will not accept Shaw's grunts and eye rolls for answers. Shaw can't lie to or evade this woman; she seeks her out, trying to heal her soft places that Shaw says don't need healing because she refuses to admit they exist. Shaw has done this her whole life, walled off any unpleasant or out of control feeling and that was _her_ way of controlling her life. Axis II my ass - to Shaw's mother and to Sasha, Shaw was hiding.

"There was someone," Shaw tried, "we started out kind of weird, but then I started to like, just want to be around them..."

"Why you play pronoun game, grumpy?" She whispered through the wall, "we know each other, no?"

She was right. This was no place to be phony. Shaw told her as much as she could about Root. About the feelings - about not being used to having feelings, Shaw let it all tumble out and it was surprisingly easy. She told her about the kiss that saved everyone's life.

Sasha called Shaw a warrior and she could not remember receiving a better compliment. 

She asks Shaw pointed and direct questions which for Shaw, is great - trying to help her suss out her feelings for Root. Talking to Sasha gives Shaw a great deal of perspective about Root. Shaw had been of the mind that the kiss was more about Root than it had been about Shaw, and after talking it over and thinking about it, she wasn't so sure that was the case anymore.

Shaw was fairly sure she loved Root. But she had never been in a relationship before - if she ever got out of this mess, and they tried to be together - she was going to break Root's heart. That was certain. Why ruin her life by giving her hope just to take it away? Shaw knows that she will let her down everyday. And Root isn't the kind of woman people walk away from. If she's still alive - that would certainly kill her. Shaw doesn't verbalize this last thought - she doesn't know how. 

"So morose, grumpy girl." Sasha tsk'd, through the grate, eyes following Shaw's pacing. Shaw stuck her tongue out at the older woman and smiled. "You act tough now but when you see her, you will fall to your knees."

Shaw gives the older woman her best eye roll and Sasha says, "Get up, grumpy bones, you get fat and stupid name girlfriend won't like you anymore!"

They do most of a Richard Simmon's workout DVD from Sasha's memory and laugh like idiots. 

_________________________

It's either really late or really early - Shaw is startled when a team with guns and flashlights bursts into her cell.

She has been anticipating  this - they won't break her, she will break herself first... Her fingers clutch at the sharp piece of metal, ready to bring it down and across both arteries and veins. She hears Sasha talking about being in the old country --fishing with her father -- ham and fresh bread -- she describes it all with the beauty of a poet. They both know what's happening. As Shaw drags the sharp metal across her wrist, she hears, "You're lovable, Grumpy." She smiles wide and yells something to her friend, "ya lyublyu tebya!" as she coils into a protective ball.

_________________________

But she's not dead. She's in a vehicle, hushed, worried voices surround her.

When they get to their destination - what looks like a farm house in the middle of nowhere, someone picks Shaw up from the bed of the van and brings her inside a warm, dimly lit ranch house. John. She's in John's arms.

She feels like a child who has fallen asleep in the car - warm, disoriented and somewhat panicked. John lowers her to her feet and that's when she sees Root. Swallow. Breathe. Heart. Keep. Beating. Shaw willed her autonomic nervous system to continue. She didn't trust her body not to betray her and she grabbed a counter for balance. Her eyes pleading with Root's.

Root grabbed Shaw by the wrist, quickly pulling her into one of the bedrooms and slamming the door shut behind them. Doesn't matter that it was John's room. Root pulled her close and just held her. No words, no kisses, just there. In the dark. Them. Together.

At some point they slept. After a fashion, collapsing onto the scratchy coverlet on the double bed. Root pressed her entire body along the length of Shaw, wanting to cover every inch of her, wordlessly swallowing the drops that fell from her eyes and held her tight, tighter. She's never seen Sameen without defenses. Something she would have endlessly teased about in another context, now it simply made her feel sad and protective.

 _Sameen_ , Root mouths as she forces herself to keep her eyes open - she's afraid to navigate away from this perfect moment, with Shaw asleep in her arms. Part of her almost wishes it could be over now. All of it. Just gone.  
Root eventually closes her eyes tight - fearing the dawn.

Shaw wakes with a start. She's not in that place anymore and here's Root. Root with her bloody nose, sallow cheeks and dark circles. She's afraid to touch her. She's afraid to breathe. She suddenly feels filthy, which she most certainly is, and does her best at slipping out of bed without disturbing Root. It's still dark out, wherever they are, as she slips into the shower.

_________________________

Her mind is so fucked. She can barely take a breath without shaking. But she's not a pow anymore, her friends are alive and she might even have a girlfriend. Things most certainly could be worse. Shaw knew Root wasn't going to like this, but she had to get out on her own for a few weeks. Recalibrate. In her own clothes. Her own terms - shave, for god sakes.

Root would understand. Shaw left a very uncharacteristicly Shaw note:   
"R, please don't be mad. I have to get some things situated and I'll contact you within the week via class. I missed you." She added that last part with a grin and left the folded note on the bedside table.  

If Root had seen that note, things would have been much better for everyone after that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : IV Drug Use.  
> Also, please NO ONE mess around with any injectables. I just used Meperidine here because it is a common anesthetic used to control pain during surgery.

****Shaw waits for 8 weeks - still no word from Root. No answer to any of the stupid classified ads Shaw placed for Root to find.

Root waits for 8 weeks - no word from Shaw, although she knows Harold talks to Shaw. In fact, she's in Los Cabos right now on a number.

Both women are pissed.

____________________

"Yes Mr. Reese, but I must insist we travel to Los Cabos simply to check on her."

"I don't know, Harold," John furrows his brow, "I think we might be better off going with the fairer sex here."

As if on queue: Zoe and Root show up looking hot in resort wear, wearing high heels, each holding a rolling travel case.

Harold rolls his eyes.

Zoe and Root head to Los Cabos looking for Shaw.

On the plane ride there, Zoe zooms in. "So, what's going on between you two ladies?"

Root tries unsuccessfully to evade, she doesn't know what to say. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since we broke her out of Samaritan."

"But I thought you guys were, uh..." Zoe's hand gesture stops cold when she sees the look on Root's face. "Sorry," she mutters.

Maybe that's a conversation for another time.

____________________

They split up and Root finds Shaw in an outdoor cantina, drinking and playing poker with three unsavory looking characters. Shaw is positively wasted. She sees Root from afar and waves her fingers in mock playfulness. Is is clear from Root's face that she is not amused. When a man tries to grab Root's ass - Zoe steps in and grabs a drunken Shaw while Root breaks some fingers.

Root and Zoe half drag, half carry Shaw back to her meager accommodations and hoist her up on the bed. Shaw looks up at Root, who is standing just inside the door, leaning against the frame - not saying a word, eyes never leaving Shaw's. Zoe makes an awkward excuse about having to take a shower and leaves.

They are alone. Shaw averts her once confident eyes and Root moves slowly to sit on the corner of the bed. "What are you doing in my bed?" Shaw drawls, using the seductive power of her voice that she knows works so well. She stretches languidly, and puts her arms up behind her head.

"Sameen?!" That panic in Root's voice is so not what Shaw was hoping for, "What is _this_?" Root's hand is curled around Shaw's wrist, twisting it painfully to expose the inside crook of Shaw's elbow. Root's eyes are mere inches from Shaw's. " _What_ is this?" She demanded.

"Calm down, Jesus." Shaw gets up from the bed and nonchalantly yanks on a hoody she finds on the floor.

"I am not going to calm down." Root is practically screaming (so this is what it's like - being in a relationship), trying to raise Shaw's sleeves up so she could see the marks.

"Oh, _now_ you care?," Shaw spats as she fights unsuccessfully, Root finally pulling up her sleeve to uncover the purplish welts. All the fight has left Shaw.

Root looked stunned, like someone who had been blindsided. "I always care, Sameen." She leans up against the mattress, and lets her body slide down into a sitting position. "About you." A fat tear stole it's way down her cheek as she whispered, "I, you don't know what it was like-" she stopped herself immediately and rose to her feet, wiping angrily at her face.

No, she wasn't going to put herself out there again for Shaw only to be left waiting and alone. Shaw had never promised her anything - not really. After the rescue, Shaw had made her wishes more than clear - there were no romantic entanglements between them. There was nothing between them anymore and there was no reason she should be here right now. If Shaw didn't want help, there was nothing Root could do about it.

Root got up and stood in the doorway . She looked at Shaw. _Sameen Shaw_ \- her prize. Sitting there cross legged in a surfer hoodie -- wild hair long and loose, freckled cheeks and tanned legs-- looking so hard to resist, so beautiful and so broken. "If you need help," she tried.

"I don't." Shaw replied instantly, not looking at her.

Before Root leaves, she deliberately hooks her finger into a terra cotta vase holding different types of cacti sitting on a table by the door and watches as it smashes to the floor while she dares Shaw to look at her. It doesn't make her feel any better and Shaw won't make eye contact. She goes to grab the doorknob as a drinking glass sails into the wall and shatters, dangerously close to Root's head. "I think there are a few ashtrays over here, you want those too?" Shaw taunts breathlessly, having taken cover between the bed and wall.

Root looks for something to hurl back. Half a bottle of tequila? _Perfect_. She sends it crashing against the wall near Shaw's body.

Shaw answers by grabbing a glass of booze and throwing it at Root, but not before she tries to spit the contents at her.

Soon they're acting like children, giggling and throwing things at each other -- it's messy, cathartic and fun until Shaw seizes up, wincing visibly, bringing her bare legs up hard against her chest and rolling onto her side. A light sheen of sweat beads along her hairline. 

"Sameen?" Root panics and drops the letter opener she was about to use as a throwing dagger. She bends down on her hands and knees near where Shaw lay. "What is it, sweetie?" Her palm cradling Shaw's perfect, sweaty head.

Shaw gestures wildly with her chin towards the bathroom, no the night stand. Root opens a small, neat roll of stiff fabric with syringes and needles hooked through loops, small vials and single use ampoules tucked neatly into their slots -- it looks like a military kit of some kind.

"If you think I'm going to shoot you up to get you high--" Root stands up and backs away from the kit and from Shaw who is obviously suffering. 

_Great, now her moral compass kicks in._

Shaw keeps gesturing towards the drawer by the bed. Root pulls out a large folder, it is all about PTSD, and goes on to describe horrible side effects, diaphragm cramping and severe gut pain and which medications are most favorable... _Jesus and here I thought she'd become a drug addict_.

She immediately grabs a syringe and a needle and yells to Shaw, who looks to be fading quickly, "How much?"

"5 ml." Manages Shaw through clenched teeth  

Root drives the needle through the top of the vial and has 50 mg of Meperidine ready to go. She kneels over Shaw, "Where do you what this?"

"M'not adrugADDict." Shaw mutters as Root gently turns her over, removing her sweatshirt.

"I know, sweetie." Root says gently, as she sidles her way down to sit cross legged in front of Shaw, cradling her head in her lap. "Ooh, wait -- stay still for 1, " Shaw feels a stick on the left side of her neck. "2, 3, and all done ." Root says with a self satisfied smirk, licking the tip of her middle finger.

Shaw feels it instantly - that hot rush of the most pleasant feelings smoothing over all her rough edges. She pulls Root down and kisses her. Slowly. Deeply. Wanting this forever.

"Ahem," Root pulls back hesitantly, a fire burning low in her belly. Feeling somehow guilty at taking advantage of a wounded soldier, as it were. "Let's get you into a bath first, shall we?" 

____________________


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root and Shaw have bath-timez
> 
> (A shorter chapter.)

As good as she looked, Shaw didn't smell so nice. Root was pleasantly surprised and somewhat thrilled that when she suggested a bath, Shaw didn't immediately scoff at the idea. In fact, she allowed Root to lead her into the dimly lit bathroom and strip off her clothes. Warm water cascaded into the deep tub and Root held tightly to Shaw as she lowered herself into the sudsy water, which covered just past her breasts as she lay down. 

Root kneeled near the tub and ran a wet washcloth over Shaw's face and forehead. Shaw leaned her head back and actually let her do this. She never knew Shaw had so many adorable little freckles. Root felt positively giddy with excitement. _She was cool though too. Really cool. No big deal. She does this all the time._

With her thumb and forefinger, she begins to firmly knead the tight muscles behind Shaw's neck. "When did I ever give you the impression I didn't care?" Root asks softly, hoping the drug and her gentle ministrations are enough to keep Shaw from clamming up and slamming the door against a potentially important conversation. 

Shaw looked up at Root without turning her head. The effect was dazzling -- the flash of a white toothed grin and lively brown eyes trained askance on Root. Root's heart fluttered. "Do you know how many stupid ads I ran hoping that you would contact me?" She finally said, more to the ceiling than to Root. 

"You mean like we _used_ to?" Root scrunched up her nose, "Why would you start that up again?"

Shaw explained about the note - she left out the "I miss you" part. She allowed Root to wash her body - serves her right for making Shaw wait all this time.

As Root listened to Shaw's matter of fact way in describing the ways in which Root had let her down, a vice gripped her heart. Knowing how _she'd_ felt those first few weeks after Shaw's rescue, she couldn't imagine how Shaw herself must have felt. And then adding insult to injury - Shaw had kept waiting for Root to answer her call but she never did. 

" _Sameen_." She whispers as she kneads shampoo into Shaw's scalp with her fingers. Seeing Shaw naked was always exciting for Root, but what was happening here, between them now - this was something much bigger than sex. Root could scarcely believe that Shaw was allowing her to continue babying her - which is exactly, Root realized, what she had needed all this time. 

Shaw allowed herself to be washed, conditioned, exfoliated and shaved (no, not there, gutter-brain. but given these two, who knows?) She laid there in the tub, eyes closed and compliant, allowing Root to have her way with her. 

Shaw was not modest. There was simply no time for it in the Marines. She was accustomed to being naked in a small space with other naked bodies. She did, however, feel a certain rush of excitement knowing that she had elected to grant Root unfettered access to her naked body. As her senses became sharper, she began to wonder how far Root would run with it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More shennanagins with these two. Sex stuff too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:  
> **  
>  There are very minor references of drug use in this chapter.  
>    
> Watch out for the sex though. Lol.  
> 

Root keeps letting the water out and re-filling the tub with fresh, warm water as she rinses Shaw with the shower wand. God, Shaw feels good - warm, clean and high. Root rinses the last of the suds away, apparently lost in her mission to heal them both through the simple act of bathing.

"You gonna do that all night?" Shaw opens one eye and cocks it at Root, smiling devilishly. Root blushes softly, Shaw has the sweetest goddamn face she's ever seen.

"I'm not fished with you yet." Root says quietly as she walks toward the tub, a large towel held out for Shaw to wrap herself in. Her blush intensifies as she stares at her feet - suddenly self conscious, not knowing how to react now that Shaw is out of the bathtub. Shit, she hadn't planned anything further than the bath, she was too happy at being able to fawn over Shaw to think clearly. _Damn it!_

Shaw knows that Root is nervous. She senses it. She knows that despite all of the badassery that is Root - Root is still a warm blooded woman who has needs and desires and fears. And what she's afraid of right now, Shaw surmises, is that Shaw will somehow vanish. That she'll touch her and she'll turn to salt or she'll look away for a moment, for her glasses or her phone, and then she'll look back and she will be gone.

Shaw's brain swirls with new connections - or at least that's how she thinks of them - empathic considerations seem to crop up all the time now - well around Root anyway. She looks at Root and feels like she is seeing her for the first time - trite as that sounds. Shaw wishes Root knew how sexy her occasional shyness was to her. Every time Shaw catches Root unprepared, every little glance, breath, blush -- every time her eyes grow huge with astonishment or surprise, Shaw feels utterly destroyed in the very best way -- like now.

Shaw lets herself be wrapped up in the warm towel before grabbing Root's hand, leading her to the bedroom. Root takes a breath as if to say something, but Shaw presses a finger to her lips. _Painkiller Shaw is much more intuitive_ , Root muses.

Shaw backs Root into a sitting position on the all-but-destroyed bed. Both women briefly take in the broken glass, spilled liquor, signs of a major struggle -- in fact, the hotel room looks a bit like a crime scene, save for a few spent rounds. Shaw with her finger still against Root's lips, grabs the bedclothes and with one quick swoop of her arm, effortlessly clears the bed. Looking at Root as if to say, _See? I can do stuff like this for you._

Root smiles that smile of hers. Not the megawatt, _Maybe-Someday_ smile, it's was the _I-knew-you'd-come-back-for-me_ smile. (They're different).

Root takes Shaw's finger into her mouth and sucks on it, staring Shaw straight in the eye as she does it. Root's eyes are brilliant and blown, Shaw can see, even in the dim light of the dingy room. She groans a little as Root takes a few more fingers into her mouth and sucks on them. Shaw feels dizzy, knowing those same fingers were inside of her a mere three hours ago.

 _Fucking Root_. She feeds off of Shaw's arousal perfectly and so easily pushes Shaw's buttons. She was right, they are perfect for each other. Shaw can't stand it, she pushes Root hard onto the bed, her towel falling away as she crashes her body hard into Root's.

Root wraps her arms around Shaw's back, feeling scars and new skin knitted together that she cannot begin to emotionally fathom, and deepens the kiss. She slides her tongue deeper into Shaw's mouth and Shaw sucks at it greedily, pulling Root ever closer.

Roots hesitancy due to Shaw's injuries makes Shaw want to push harder. She grabs at Roots pants, yanking at the zipper - wrestling them from her. Root's underwear is simple, just black cotton, nothing you'd see on someone who wanted to be seen in their panties, thought Shaw, but Root has a way of being sexy without ever even trying.

Without a word, Shaw focuses on the body beneath her. She runs her palm over the expanse of Root's bare calf and up her thigh, coming to rest on her hip. She kisses Root again and again, all the while rubbing her legs and teasing her into oblivion. Root is mewling and whimpering and Shaw feels intoxicated at the raw power she feels - at being able to elicit these responses from Root.

Root makes hot little noises every time Shaw's thumb grazes her wetness through the flimsy cotton barrier of her panties. Again and again, Shaw swirls her fingertips around the fabric of Root's underwear, teasing at the seams, barely brushing a finger over her clit before starting it all over again: kissing her hard and doing whatever-this-is really softly.

This is Root. Someone Shaw held so dear she risked her life for her and would do again. Shaw had fantasized about being with Root on occasions too numerous to count, but none of the scenarios she conjured fit what was happening now. No teeth, no blood, no bruises. Perhaps there would be time for that later, but right now... right now there was a woman underneath Shaw who was practically begging to be taken and Shaw was nothing if not excellent at following orders.

 _Oh sweetie, we're gonna have so much fun with that later_. Shaw can practically hear the glee in Root's voice now.

Shaw bends down to press small kisses into Root's hip. Root shudders and tries to suppress a moan. "Don't fight it, _Root_." Shaw says - the "Root" coming out as syrupy sweet as Root's all too familiar "sweetie" - effectively one-upping Root at her own game. _Well, maybe a few bruises_.

Shaw quickens the pace, trailing light kisses and soft bites across Root's thighs. Root's knees begin to shake and Shaw chooses that moment to gently nuzzle her lips against the crotch of Root's underwear. Root writhes as if bound and instantly feels drenched between her legs. 

Shaw finds that she enjoys this new territory. She feels like a traveller, wants to read the guidebooks and maybe even learn the language. Feeling like she actually wants to and is capable of making love (her face screws up at the word) to someone is all at once taboo and exciting and like, crazy right? She is into Root a hundred and fucking fifty percent and wants so badly to show her just how much.

Shaw hooks two fingers in the sides of Root's panties and slowly drags them down the length of her glorious legs, admiring the view but making eye contact as well. The way Root is looking up at her with absolute trust makes Shaw stop.

There's that thing coming back into the room. That thing between them -- where there was just only love a moment ago, now there's something else there too. Shaw feels it and knows that Root does too.

"Does this feel wrong?" Shaw asks like a total dumbass. 

Root doesn't miss a beat. She curls her legs underneath her in a very ladylike fashion, rests her head on Shaw's thigh and asks, "How's your pain now?"

It's bad, Shaw hadn't even noticed. "Not good." Shaw admits, hanging her head low and taking a deep breath.

Root moves to the bedside drawer and pulls out the kit. "That doesn't bother you?" Shaw asks.

"It only bothered me when I didn't understand why." Root explained, unwrapping a fresh syringe. "And I can't say I mind you all that much after I've given you your dose, either." That familiar Root smirk.

"I noticed." Shaw curls her lip but there is no malice behind it.

Root draws 5ml of the clear liquid into a syringe and caps the needle. "What does it feel like?" She asks, putting the syringe between her teeth to shift into position, closer to Shaw.

Shaw thinks she might regret this later but says with a smirk, "You wanna find out?"

__________________

Root desperately wants to lose herself in Shaw, _with_ Shaw -- but she is afraid of what they might do to each other or what this might do to _them_. How deep is this going to go? Words and concepts swirl through her brain: _Surrender. Trust. Romance_. Shaw already owned her. This wasn't going to change anything. She already has scars from Shaw and she didn't so much want to feel the drug as she wanted to feel _Shaw_ in her veins. "Tempting as that sounds," she whispers sweetly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Shaw's ear. "I think we can come up with better ways to occupy our time together."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: small medically approved drug use scene. ******  
> 

Root desperately wants to lose herself in Shaw, _with_ Shaw -- but she is afraid of what they might do to each other or what this might do to _them_. How deep is this going to go? Words and concepts swirl through her brain: _Surrender_. _Trust_. _Romance_. Shaw already owned her. This wasn't going to change anything. She already has scars from Shaw and she didn't so much want to feel the drug as she wanted to feel _Shaw_ in her veins. "Tempting as that sounds," she whispers sweetly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Shaw's ear. "I think we can come up with better ways to occupy our time together."

Shaw studies the woman hovering above her. Root never ceases to blow Shaw's mind. Just when she thinks she knows what Root will do, she changes it up and turns on a dime - deliciously disrupting the balance between them. Shaw liked that Root kept her on her toes.

Root slips the needle in slowly, seductively. Her eyes never leave Shaw's, not for a second, as she presses her thumb against the plunger and delivers soothing relief into Shaw's veins, easing all her pain.

Shaw's eyes pulse and dilate dramatically - dark black iris eclipsing brown completely. She reaches up for Root who is still half naked and pulls her into a arrestingly carnal, openmouthed kiss. "I love it when you play doctor." She breathes hotly into Root's mouth, not quite managing to capture the essence of Root's initial comment so long ago, but Root gives her points for trying.

"What am I going to do with you?" Root smirks, breathless from that kiss.

She pulls Root's bottom lip between her own and bites down softly. "Mm, what do you _want_ to do with me?" Root suppresses a moan and lays her body over Shaw's, lacing the fingers of both their hands together.

Root loved Shaw gentle and docile like this - she so rarely got to see it. Her mouth was so warm, soft and inviting. It was all Root could do not to drown in it completely, but Shaw's neck so clearly needed some attention from her tongue.

Shaw pulls Root's shirt up over her head and wraps her arms around her thin body. She has never had her hands on Root's body like this and the feel of their skin together is simply perfect. Shaw's hands caress Root's back and shoulders as Root latches her mouth hard onto one of Shaw's nipples, making her cry out in pleasure. Root leans in and gives Shaw a sloppy, wet kiss - she likes it when Shaw is loud. Shaw will come to learn this later.

Shaw is happy. She's naked and warm and, _oh god_ , rubbing her entire body up against Root's, coming alive under her. She runs her hands over the small, prefect globes of Root's ass and spreads her legs, trapping Root between them. She pulls Root hard into her, their sex grinding together. Shaw feels dangerously close to losing control.

Root has never wanted a penis. Root thinks penises are rather gross. But Root has never been to bed with Shaw before and what she realizes now, is that she wishes more than anything, that in this very moment, she had a hard cock to fuck Shaw with. It was a strange sort of wanting thing that only made her growl low in her throat, grit her teeth and thrust even harder against Shaw, despite the aparent futility of the gesture.

They are kissing deeply, rocking together, sweaty and naked. The emotion between them clutches at Root's heart. It's almost too much bear, so Root tries for something a little lighter; her voice is cool and commanding despite her rapid breathing and erratic heartbeat. "Spread your legs wider for me, Sameen."

An inarticulate, throaty noise escapes Shaw lips as she grabs her knees and pulls her legs uncomfortably wide at Root's command. A dark, neat patch of curls outline Shaw's pretty, pink folds and Root feels dizzy with desire. She thrusts two fingers deep into Shaw and gasps when she realizes how drenched she is. "Oh, sweetie."

It's that perfect moment - of being entered and filled so completely. Normally, Shaw would have left that kind of sentiment to _total losers_ , as she is wont to say. Instead she cries out sharply and arches halfway off of the mattress. Root doesn't let up, she sinks her fingers in: two, three, four -- fucking her with increased depth and speed. Shaw chases those thrusts with her hips, moving aggressively towards Root's hand - so clearly wanting more.

Root starts rubbing her entire hand up and down the the length of Shaw's pussy. When she reaches the top, she swirls Shaw's clit between her fingers and then slips three more fingers into her as she rubs over her hole. Again and again, Root traverses every inch of skin between Shaw's legs, rubbing her up and down, in and out, occasionally dipping her fingers down even further to tease Shaw's ass, never giving her a moment to catch her breath.

" Root." Shaw pleads, every muscle and tendon in her body straining visibly - looking sleek and gorgeous in the half light. She pumps desperately towards Root's fingers, her body thrashing wildly beneath Root. She looks down at Root with so much _something_ in her eyes - Root doesn't know exactly what it is, but she knows it's ok. Better than ok.

"I'm gonna come," Shaw moans roughly. She looks at Root, whose eyes are locked on hers. "I'm gonna come for you now." Shaw breaks with a choked sob, her body in the throes of a powerful release. They both cry out together, although for entirely different reasons.

Shaw's body jerks and spasms, riding the pleasant little aftershocks of the biggest orgasm she's probably ever had. She hasn't been able to come since before Samaritan and she feels like something inside of her has cracked open and is spilling out onto the floor. She's too happy to care as she reaches both of her arms around Root, holding her tightly. It feels fucking fantastic.

They lie together like that for a short while, breathing beginning to slow, until Shaw's hands and fingers start roaming, softly caressing the sides of Root's breasts, plastered against her own chest as they were. Root moans and leans in for another kiss as they hear a loud, incessant pounding on the door.

"The number." hisses Shaw, wide eyed and instantly on her feet - halfway into jumping into her pants. 

"Zoe." remembers Root.

They wait for a few minutes in silence until there is another knock at the door, this time it's more polite. "Hey you two." In saunters Zoe, looking quite pleased with herself. Root covers her naked body as best she can with Shaw's discarded bath towel. Zoe takes in the state of the room and of them and laughs.

_________________________________

Zoe was able to neutralize the threat to the number without Root and Shaw's help, which was more than ok with them. All three travel back to the hotel where Root and Zoe are booked, which is considerably nicer than the dump Shaw had been staying in.

Once inside Root's room, Shaw becomes like a kid in a candy store. She crawls into one of the soft cotton robes hanging in the bathroom and is presently ordering one of almost everything off the room service menu. Her hair is pulled back in it's customary pony tail, but she looks revitalized and healthier than she had earlier in the evening. Root's heart catches in her chest - just seeing Shaw enjoying herself this way makes Root deliriously happy. She loves her so much.

After Shaw packs away an impressive amount of food, Root turns off the overhead lights, leaving only a small lamp burning. It is extremely late and she is extremely tired. While Shaw is in the bathroom, Root slips out of her jeans and shirt - wondering if, given the recent turn of events, she should leave her bra on?

Shaw emerges from the bathroom wearing a very familiar pair of cut-off sweatpants and absolutely nothing else. Root unhooks her bra and slides between the sheets, looking at Shaw curiously, wondering where this is going to go. Shaw frees her hair from the elastic, shaking it loose, which is something Root never sees enough of. Shaw with her hair down. Yum. A twinge of arousal races through her blood.

Shaw plops down on the bed and snuggles her body up to Root's, feeling totally ok about sacrificing her personal space to be close and warm. She shuts her eyes and feels sleep creeping up around the edges when Root has to go and ruin it all. "I want you to see a doctor when we get home."

_Doctor? Home? Who the fuck did Root think she was?_

"M'kay." Shaw mumbles, nuzzling into Root's neck, feeling encapsulated by her sweet warmth and softness. Her eyelids flutter closed and she is able to sleep deeply for the first time in months without first having to down half a bottle of booze.

Root, on the other hand, cannot seem to get to sleep at all. Shaw is here - safe and warm in her arms and they had been intimate. Really intimate, but Root was worried. She wonders if perhaps it was just the drugs Shaw had taken? Had they given Shaw an excuse to have sex with her? Was it something she was going to regret tomorrow? Would Shaw disappear again? So many thoughts - Root was tense and tried to loosen her muscles so Shaw wouldn't be disturbed. She was sleeping so soundly and Root didn't have the heart to wake her.

"Would it help if I told you I loved you?"

"Excuse me?" Root says, surprised as all hell.

"If I tell you I love you can we please get some sleep? You're driving me crazy with all that twitching."

Root is speechless and Shaw _loves_ it. _Fucking Loves It_. She raises her eyebrows at Root as if waiting for an answer. Root bites down hard on her lip and dares to hold Shaw's gaze. "Is that true?" She asks.

"Which part, you driving me crazy or me loving you?"

"Both," Root holds her breath as she shreds her lip with a sharp tooth.

Shaw snuggles in closer to Root, "Yes, both. Now get some sleep before I bloody the other side of your lip."

"Promises, promises." Whispers Root as she allows herself to finally rest.

 - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When they return to New York, at Root's insistence and prodding, many things happen. One, Shaw goes to see a Doctor _and_ gets a physical. Two, Shaw has surgery to repair a hernia that had been causing her pain for years. Three, Shaw goes to see a specialist once a week for PTSD. Understandably, the latter is something Shaw would most certainly never agree to, so true to form, Root tricks Shaw into going to her first session with Dr. Alexandra Volkom.

With the help of Harold, Root gives Shaw Dr. Volkom's name and address as if she had simply been another number the Machine had sent them. The woman is a professor of forensic psychology at NYU and was extensively trained in the field, treating soldiers with PTSD. Shaw goes to do some recon of her office when she turns a corner and suddenly smacks into someone. "Jesus, look where you're going assho-"

"Grumpy Monkey," says the woman, arms outstretched, "why you always so clumsy?"

Shaw grins and let's herself become enfolded in Sasha's arms. She's happy but also can't wait until she's healed so she can punish Root a little for this.

"We have a lot of talking to do, no?" Sasha says, throwing an arm across Shaw's shoulders. 

"No." Shaw laughs and begins again, "I mean yes. A lot. I-" she hesitated briefly, "I think I'm changing a little." 

Sasha smiles. She knows this already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sasha is a common familiar form of Alexandra. Just an FYI. :)


End file.
